


Mission: Complicated

by primaveracerezos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Fake Marriage, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Art, Kind of angsty, M/M, Nightmares, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveracerezos/pseuds/primaveracerezos
Summary: Draco and Harry are undercover as a married couple at a resort; things get complicated.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 195





	Mission: Complicated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [milkandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkandhoney/gifts).



> Inspired by fictional's [fake marriage AU art](https://fictional.tumblr.com/post/624266285817167872/ref-that-moment-in-a-fake-marriage-au-where), which was so lovely I couldn't get it out of my head.

They’d been on the mission for two weeks; fourteen days of public displays of affection and constant bickering in private, of Malfoy taking fifteen years to get ready each morning, then complaining when Harry slept in, of soft touches and lingering looks and scooting their chairs closer together at dinner. 

It got complicated when Malfoy kept forgetting to stop the niceness behind closed doors. He’d sit next to Harry on the bed, or tuck a stray curl back into place, or smile at him across their hotel room. Without fail, Harry’s heart jumped into his throat every time. He never said anything—didn’t want to embarrass Malfoy—but it was very confusing. Disarming. 

Complicated. 

Harry had brought enough Dreamless Sleep to last him ten days (the mission was only supposed to be seven) so he thought he had overprepared. But as time dragged on with no contact from their source, it became clear they would be sharing this room for longer than anticipated. Harry told Malfoy to cast a silencing spell if Harry woke him at night and thought that’d be the end of it. 

Predictably, the first night without his potion, Harry had a nightmare. It was particularly nasty; they always were when he went cold turkey off the Dreamless, like the horrible images saved themselves up while he blocked them. He woke to find himself on his back, soaked in cold sweat, the sheet twisted around his legs. His throat was sore—he must have been yelling—and it took a moment to remember where he was. He peered into the dark, willing himself to believe Voldemort wasn’t hiding there. 

“Lumos,” whispered Malfoy next to him. Harry jumped as the room lit up with a soft yellow glow. Malfoy was laying on his side, studying Harry. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, embarrassed. “Silencing spell works great.”

“I’m not worried about the noise, Potter. I’m worried about you. Do you often have nightmares?” 

Harry shrugged. He got up and rinsed his face in the bathroom sink, taking deep breaths. He wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, not after that. 

The next day was typical for them. They took breakfast in the dining room, socialized with the other resort guests, and split up for reconnaissance (still nothing to note). They ate lunch in the gardens with Mary and Barry, the older couple who had quasi-adopted them, then spent the afternoon at the hot springs, semi-interviewing the few guests they hadn’t interacted with yet. 

Harry had started to feel like he was reliving the same day over and over. When they returned to the room before dinner, he claimed the shower for frustration-relieving wank, which worked until he dried off and found Malfoy lounging on the bed in his boxers, reading a book. 

Malfoy just smiled at him—again with the damned smiling—and headed into the bathroom for his own shower. Harry was suddenly overcome with the thought that Malfoy might be wanking in there too, and then he was furious at himself. 

Dinner was a torturous routine of little cheek kisses and coy looks and teasing smiles. Harry thought he might actually die from it all. But, Senior Auror as he was, he used his years of training to strengthen him for the task. The other dinner guests never seemed to notice his turmoil, at least. 

He just barely managed to make it through the after dinner card games, followed by a beach bonfire during which Malfoy fed him a marshmallow and Harry wanted to bury himself in the sand. When they finally made it back to the room, Harry was exhausted from all the pretending and didn’t even bother undressing before he climbed into bed. 

He awoke a few hours later, breathing hard, his whole body tense. He scrambled for his wand on the side table, still half asleep and terrified. 

“Hey,” whispered Malfoy. He reached out and put a cool hand on Harry’s cheek. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Harry felt the tears on his face now, wiped them away with his sleeve, and tried to catch his breath. 

Malfoy moved closer. “It’s alright,” he murmured. 

He’d woken from hundreds of nightmares screaming and never — not once — had someone stayed in his bed long enough to comfort him. But Malfoy stroked his arm, whispered comforts in his ear, and Harry melted into him. He let himself tuck his face into the crook of Malfoy’s neck, let Malfoy curl a protective arm around him, let himself be held. Malfoy talked quietly about nothing, flowers and broom types and dinner etiquette, and slowly Harry’s body relaxed and he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep. 

In the morning, neither of them said a word, though they woke up still entwined. The day was the same as all the others—breakfast, socializing, stubbornly searching for clues—but it had taken on a new tone. They held hands as they walked around, though no one was there to see; Harry returned Malfoy’s little smiles over dinner and found he was looking forward to being alone together that evening. 

When he climbed into bed, he laid for a few moments in the dark just staring at the ceiling, listening to Malfoy putting on his ridiculous constellation pajamas and brushing his teeth. Malfoy laid down next to him, finally quiet, but Harry could tell he was awake too. 

“Thank you,” said Harry, so low he could hardly hear himself. 

Malfoy turned toward him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Potter.”

Harry could see him there, in the dark, just barely visible, head propped on his hand. Before he lost his nerve, Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to Malfoy’s. 

After a second’s hesitation (during which Harry questioned every decision he’d ever made), Malfoy kissed him in return, pulling him in by his shoulders. Harry wrapped an arm around Malfoy’s waist. Maybe there would be no nightmares tonight.


End file.
